


Sleepwalkers

by waatp



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:47:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27346864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waatp/pseuds/waatp
Summary: The year is 2298. The world is at war with an Alien infestation. One group (of misfits) is promising to rid Earth of the hostiles, at any cost. Join the Pitch Perfect characters as they battle demons, aliens and shapeshifters whilst dealing with their own troubles and relationships and attempt to restore hope and power to a broken Earth after an Alien attack. Mild peril at best! Archive Warnings will be posted per chapter (if there are any). AU. Bechloe.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell, Luke/Aubrey Posen
Kudos: 6
Collections: Pitch_perfect Chloe/Beca





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shirkowitz Alien 3.14](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Shirkowitz+Alien+3.14).



> I wish I owned the characters from Pitch Perfect because they are the best bunch of misfits friends I am unfortunate enough not to have as my own... but I don't.  
> I would love to own any of the songs featured within this story... but I don't.  
> I'd like to be able to say I own a complete grasp of the English language and grammar (but despite being ever so English and sounding like the Queen, I left school in the last Millennium and promptly forgot everything on purpose, because that is how I roll)... but I don't.  
> I hoped to own a soul (I am ginger)... but I don't.  
> I want to own a normal sense of humour... but I don't.  
> I would love to own the ability to know when to stop rambling... but I don't.  
> I own nothing except a hefty mortgage, a very clumsy husband, a couple of dead pot plants, two hyper active puppies and a grumpy cat.  
> I'm too lazy to type up a disclaimer on each page so I am doing it all now. The most I hope to write are the song titles that I have stolen to use in each chapter which I will always aim to do but please forgive me if I forget!  
> I own nothing from Pitch Perfect, any of the characters (except the OC ones you'll find coming up and you'll easily spot who they are), any song lyrics or in fact anything else at all! I even stole the name from a company I work with that I always thought sounded cool.  
> I have endeavoured to write an original story based on my love of aliens and Pitch Perfect and I truly hope you like it. I did originally post this on another website but trying it out here as well.
> 
> So, onwards and upwards, dear friends and readers... for the Agents are waiting. The first couple of chapters are quite long and hard to get through but I really hope when the story gets going, you'll enjoy it. Thanks for reading along!

_.oOo._

_It was getting cold out,_   
_Summer was over although I wouldn't have known the difference._   
_I had barricaded myself in my room, in my head;_   
_Tortured by Star Spangled dreams of a future I had brushed shoulders with;_   
_Maybe even made it to second base with?_

_When they all gave up on me, I guess I kinda gave up on me too._   
_The parade of empty eyed partygoers and lock jawed stragglers seemed to have stretch in to forever._   
_So I adopted a 'can't beat em, join em' philosophy!_

_I had heard rumblings of some sort of sickness going around,_   
_Some soul sucking virus that turned bright, promising souls into cold shadowy might have beens._   
_I could relate I thought; I was one of them;_   
_I was a sleepwalker!_

_Funny how your priorities change when you are faced with extinction._

_** Sleepwalkers - Bonnie McKee **_

_.oOo._

The curiously quiet motorised hum rumbled up and over the hill, creating the only sound for miles in Sector 3.9 as the brand new, fresh from the production line, D-ACA Cruiser gently glided across the rocky terrain, avoiding the numerous bubbling gas pockets and sharp edged rocks with ease.

The rider, the only human for miles, was clad completely in black leather and skilfully negotiated the now familiar environmental setting, handling the vehicle with experienced precision whilst maintaining her trademarked perfect poise astride the large, overly polished, shiny machine.

The route up the muddy, rocky mound was steep but short and it wasn't long before the rider reached the small crevice, her intended resting point, some twenty feet from the summit.

It held a well-appointed vantage point over the valley, hidden from overhead aircraft and set far enough back from the ridge that it would take only the keenest of eyes to spot it amongst the flinty face of the small hill.

The rider drove straight into the cave, switched off the engine with a gentle flick of her wrist and nudged the cruiser towards the back of the cavern, tucking it against the rear wall.

Surveying the dimly lit hollow, her Academy training making her constantly on the lookout for the enemy, the rider looked down to the craft she had ridden in on, assessing for any surface damage that could be easily fixed with the standard but rather basic tool kit attached to the spare wheel.

Luckily, there wasn't any severe damage to fix on the cruiser and the rider knew that once back in the hallowed workshops of her Base Headquarters, the machine would be stripped apart to be cleaned properly before being returned to the Vehicle Bay, ready for the next journey out.

Waiting for the environmental readings to uplink onto the data screen that was located just inside her helmet visor, the rider sighed heavily as she canted her weight onto her right hip.

The battle she had just come from had been quick, intense but triumphant and the remnants of the victory were secured in the locked box on the back of the vehicle, ready for inspection and testing back at Base.

The rider was tired.

After a long day and an even longer week, it felt good to break protocol and take a breather for a moment. She was looking forward to getting back to Base and taking a hot shower and partaking in a decent meal, seeing as she hadn’t had any sustenance since before dawn.

The faint crackle of static brought the rider back to the situation laid out in front of her. She assumed her faultless composure again as she looked at the readings scrolling across her eye screen.

She scanned the immediate area in front of the cavern, assessing for danger, hostiles… or simply dangerous weather. This was England after all and a heavy thunderstorm could hamper radio signals, mess with communications and cause appalling flying conditions.

Plus, it always felt cold and nothing seemed to work properly in the cold.

The ecological study had completed satisfactorily, and the risk of exposure showed a respectable three percent. She checked the atmospheric status once more, just to be sure before raising her visor; her leather glove lightly ghosting over her bruised and bloodied cheek in the process.

_'Oh, ding a ling_ _s_ _!'_ She thought to herself, hissing slightly as she removed her glove and pressed a hand to her cheek to assess the damage, knowing any sort of battle wound would need to be logged with one of the Base Doctors, causing an examination for which she had no time for and a delay she didn't need.

Not today anyway.

The rider silenced the radio on her left hip with her gloved thumb, as she uncurled a long leg over the brand-new D-ACA Cruiser that she had acquired only hours before, using it to put some distance between her and the small Alien camp she had only _just_ managed to get away from.

She was graceful and light on her feet; her long, slim legs effortlessly stepping over the rugged ground as she made her way to the entrance of the cave, avoiding the bubbling purple coloured pothole on the right.

Risking a reproach later, the rider removed her helmet, shaking out her golden carefully curled hair as she turned her face into the wind, revelling in the slightly sulphuric breeze that wafted across her tired face.

She tucked the helmet onto her hip.

Using her impeccable vision, she trained her hazel eyes onto the pale red hue of the horizon, the sign of the end of another day. She sank to her knees and leant against the rocky wall for support.

She watched and waited for the signal.

Pulling back the leathered sleeve, she glanced down at the implant embedded into the top of her left forearm; the dullness of the small LED display providing a second reassurance that she needed to get back to Base as soon as possible as her energy levels were registering dangerously low.

Usually the implant would vibrate rather annoyingly if her energy levels dropped below thirty percent. The rider had found a way to silence the alarm on her wrist so she could finish a mission instead.

It was against the rules and it was the only infraction she allowed herself to have. On this occasion, however, she wished she had paid attention to the readings a little earlier.

Remaining steadfast, she patted the small pocket on her uniform, just to the south of her left collarbone, feeling for the set of small syringes she always carried, reassuring herself that she had at least two doses of the emergency APOP treatment, should she need to use it.

The rider had never had to use the drug before; she had heard the side effects were effective but extremely vicious, but all the Agents were issued with the drug - the _Advanced Protection Oxygen Preserver -_ as a standard part of their kit.

It allowed the user approximately thirty minutes life support, should their oxygen supply be compromised or if the environment was too toxic. It provided enough adrenaline to prevent organ failure and activated an increase in rich plasma from an already implanted device, designed to keep the body alive if the injury received accumulated in severe trauma or excessive blood loss.

Upon injecting the APOP; directly into the neck worked best, a tracking beacon inserted into the cartridge would be triggered automatically, alerting the rest of the team, and allowing time for preparation for retrieval if the fallen Agent was further encumbered.

When on duty, every team member was required to be on point, ready for anything and prepared for every type of situation.

Without question.

Without excuse.

Without fail.

The vigorous entry level training schedule they had all been required to attend when joining the Training Academy only gave a hint at what they had to learn once they had graduated.

The enemy, known simply as **'The Sleepwalkers'** were ingenious at leaving lingering, poisonous vapours in their wake after an attack, deathly lethal to a human or animal and even the keenest and most talented of Agent could be compromised, making such a drug as the APOP a necessity for all those who went out on patrol alone, or far from a rescue point.

Pouting strongly into the wind, the rider continued to watch the vista in front of her as she flexed her fingers, waiting for the signal from her support vessel. There was plenty of time before the scheduled rendezvous, so she allowed her memory to drift for a moment.

The rider hated The Sleepwalkers through every fibre of her being; a pure, red hot, burning, passionate hatred that threatened to consume her if she allowed herself too long to dwell on her thoughts.

Following in her mother's footsteps and her grandmothers as well, to avenge their deaths and preserve their memory, she had joined the Freedom Fighter's Academy as soon as she had turned eighteen, graduating with honours in just four short months, surpassing all expectations and faster than anyone in Elementum's - _Freedom Fighter's Headquarters_ \- history.

The rest of her class naturally graduated two months later and by then, the rider had already attended Leadership School. She was officially made Team Leader of Unit Bravo one month later, the youngest in the history of the Academy.

An achievement she had quietly acknowledged and stored in her memory banks before going about her day as is nothing had happened. There was no time to gloat and it served no purpose anyway.

She set the precedent for young, fresh team leaders and with her input, several changes were made to the way that the teams were structured. She was happy to help; her sole purpose since joining Elementum was to live and serve and fight.

She didn’t always get it right but was humble enough to accept that not every day was a good one. She learnt from mistakes made and moved on quickly.

The Academy Training was, as accurately described by all who passed through it, a living hell.

Ruthless, pitiless and aggressive, it served to sort the wheat from the chafe. Dropout rates were extremely high, ensuring that only those with both the finest mental prowess as well as extraordinary physical strength, would graduate.

_'Go Hard or Go Home'_ , was the phrase the rider had coined for her Unit, something she abided by herself, sparing little thought or regard for time wasters. She was aggressive when necessary but had learned over the years to use her team's skills and accept that her way was not always the best.

In return, her team didn’t question a hard decision that she had had to make under extreme pressure if she had had to pull rank on one of them in combat.

Six years later, she was still in command of a cutthroat, compact, energetic and seamless team, renowned throughout the entire organisation as one of the best. Her team had earned her love and respect and while she occasionally found herself wondering how such a bunch of misfits worked so easily together, she didn't question it.

Of course, there had been fatalities over time and her eyebrows furrowed for the briefest of moments as she scanned the horizon as she thought of the Agents that had been lost under her command.

The smallest of unexpected sounds snapped the riders' attention back to the cave and her current surroundings. Scooping her helmet back over her head in an easy, fluid movement and ignoring the sting in her cheek from the rough fabric sliding over the raw skin as she did so, she snapped the visor down in one, quick solid motion, reawakening the on-board computer built neatly into the corner of the eye screen.

The gridded screens flashed green as she searched the area, dropping to a low crouch as she charted the cavern once more. She steadied herself with one hand on the rock wall as the small digital camera zoomed in and out, adjusting and focusing on the bubbling pothole as it processed the contents.

Flashing an orange cautionary circle, the rider quickly and effortlessly rose from her crouched stance to her full height once more, sweeping her eyes over the cruiser, idly waiting at the back of the cave.

Immediately the screen flashed a red warning triangle and streams of information began to dart down the screen as the rider took a step closer, her hand instinctively dropping to draw the W-74, her weapon of choice, currently strapped to her right leg.

The data warning concerned the cargo in the locked box towards the back of the cruiser; the treasure from her latest killing spree.

The rider halted when the red triangle flashed again.

The words ' **REGENERATING NEEZLUX** ' flashed across the rider’s visor and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up immediately.

“Shit.”

**.oOo.**


	2. Chapter 2

_.oOo._

_A little less conversation, a little more action, please_   
_All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me_   
_A little more bite and a little less bark_   
_A little less fight and a little more spark_   
_Close your mouth and open up your heart and, baby, satisfy me_   
_Satisfy me, baby_

_Baby, close your eyes and listen to the music_   
_Drifting through a summer breeze_   
_It's a groovy night and I can show you how to use it_   
_Come along with me and put your mind at ease_   
_A little less conversation, a little more action, please_   
_All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me_   
_A little more bite and a little less bark_   
_A little less fight and a little more spark_

_** A Little Less Conversation – Elvis Presley **_

_.oOo._

.oOo. Chapter Two .oOo.

“Shit.” The rider uncharacteristically cussed for the second time, snapping into immediate, practiced action as she reached a long, slender, perfectly manicured finger under her helmet, finding the small, rigid black button implanted behind her ear, pressing it twice.

She listened for a second before she heard the familiar ping, signalling her connection to Base.

 _“_ _Base. Unit B for Badass. Press one for today's lunch menu…”_ The unmistakable, loud and, clear, bored and slightly sarcastic voice of her second in command rang out immediately in her ear, flooding the rider's senses with a flicker of relief, despite the obvious lack of protocol in the greeting; something she would address later. Even though as, despite Elementum was currently being on the lowest level minimal security setting, she demanded that her team be on point at all times, regardless and this greeting was most certainly not on the approved response listing... _“… press two for your choice of easy listening tunes, press three to leave a message which no one will get back to you about and press four for_ _your daily quiz question and chance to win_ _-”_

“-This is Skipper. Over.” The rider said sharply.

A nano second later, she heard the other Agent's chair popping back upright, the slap of a pair of heavy boots hitting the tiled floor and the scramble of a set of headphones being secured properly back on Agent Rebeca _'Psycho'_ Mitchell's head.

_“Um, Skipper, we were-”_

“-Execute emergency retrieval from Sector 3.9. I repeat, execute _EMERGENCY_ retrieval from Sector 3.9. Over.”

 _“Copy that Skipper.”_ Beca said, her mind sharp and focused and her voice devoid of all the cynical humour she had displayed just moments before as she taped the necessary codes onto the monitor in front of her. _“Initiating retrieval in Sector 3.9. State the emergency. Over.”_

“Code seven one three. Over.”

_“Seven one… three? Over.”_

“Correct. Over.”

 _“Hostile on board_ _?_ _Confirm_ _Neezlux_ _? Over.”_

“ _Regenerating_ Neezlux. Locked in D-ACA cargo box. Over.” The rider called in, a twinge of pride in her voice.

 _“Affirmative Skipper. Wait, what? You got a Neezlux?”_ Beca's awed response rang out as she watched the streams of data roll down her screen, sending necessary data through to the control room and patrol unit coordination team at Elementum. “ _Fuck! On your own? Dude?! Seriously? Fuck! You got one of those feisty fuckers by yourself? That is fucking amazing! Fuck. Over.”_

She clicked on a few buttons to save the statistics and sent the information to the backup servers.

“Affirmative. Calm your pits, Agent Mitchell. Over.”

_“Where is it now? Over.”_

“The aforementioned Neezlux Alien is currently dismembered and the body parts in the D-ACA's locked box ready for testing. Over.”

_“Noted. Over.”_

“Sending data from my head cam to your station as well, although I would prefer zero comments from you about the way I managed to take down the hostile. Classify this specimen as substantial risk. I repeat... substantial risk. Over.”

_“Copy. Substantial risk. Over.”_

“Oh, and Agent Mitchell…”

_“Yeah?”_

“… watch your expletive language over comms. Over.”

 _“Apologies for the enthusiasm, Your Highness._ _But I can’t promise it won’t happen again._ _Over.”_ Beca deadpanned sarcastically.

The rider's lip twitched into a half smile as the hurried clicking of keys could be heard in the background. She wanted to laugh at the situation for some reason, but she supressed the hysteria and maintained her graceful stance.

 _“Re... triev... ing data... now Skipper.”_ Beca continued. _“Got it. And it’s just uploading now._ _Almost finished. Nearly there… yup… yup_ _, that’s on its way. Over.”_

“Enjoying the play by play, Agent Mitchell. Over.” The rider mirthed.

 _“Whoa, hostile is a big fucker. And, sorry… again, for the eff word. Over.”_ Beca said, sounding anything _but_ sorry.

“Is Agent Bryant in his hole? Over.” The rider asked, ignoring the tone from her second in command.

 _“Affirmative Skipper, sending_ _the_ _data to Agent Bryant now. Over.”_

“Patch him in. Over.” She ordered, glancing out at the horizon once more, eyes dancing over the hills as she sensed there was more to the day to come. A low growl caught her attention and she twisted to listen intently.

 _“Copy that. Connecting Grandad… Agent Bryant to my comms unit now. Over.”_ Beca said quickly, her tone sharp.

“Who’s airborne from the Unit? Over.”

_“Currently? Agent Beale has taken the Y-PIX out for recon. Over.”_

“Get Agent Beale’s position stat. Reclamation time needs re-evaluating. The Sleepwalker is regenning faster than expected and there is zero time to waste. Over.” The rider barked; the speed of the regeneration process of the extremely deadly Alien next to her was beginning to irk her.

 _“Copy that. Agent Bryant has your live data and is currently processing. Retrieving coordinates now for Agent Beale’s position Skipper in... three... two... one... current location is Sector 8._ _Over.”_

“Time to my location please? Over.”

 _“_ _Time to your location_ _...”_ Beca repeated whilst she calculated the distance. _“… is thirty-six... no wait, time redacted after final evaluation, it’s fourteen_ _minutes. Sending transmission now to Agent Beale’s location and advising of situation. Coordinates locked and loaded... now. Over.”_

“Has the download been successful, Agent Mitchell? Over.” The rider asked, doing her best to sound calm as the D-ACA moaning grew louder from the locked box behind her began to shake and the moaning grew louder.

 _“Finishing up now Skip... Receiving Intel from Agent_ _Bryant’s station now_ _... and... regen is presently at... twenty one percent. Time for full regen is approximately sixteen minutes. Advise on course of action preferred? Over.”_

“Organised retraction time is two hours and thirty minutes away. Too long. Is Agent Okanakamura ready to fly sooner for extraction? Over.” The rider asked, slightly hopeful that her comrade would be almost ready.

 _“Negative Skipper. She's currently setting small fires in the lunch break room. Felt that the fire marshals had nothing better to do, clearly. Over.”_ Beca stated; a tinge of humour in her voice.

“Repeat that Agent Mitchell? She deliberately set a fire? Over.”

 _“Said she wanted to feel joy_ _or something. I don’t know, she wasn’t wearing her microphone so I couldn’t hear her properly and Agent Hobart caught her eating those weird as fuck berries again so that might have something to do with it. Over.”_

“Agent Mitchell, I just mentioned the excessive use of-”

 _“-Inappropriate language. Noted. Sorry, again. Agent Okanakamura was baking something in a pot for tomorrow’s meeting... I don’t know, shit to do with us all getting high on life or something. She was baking cookies..._ _I think. Over.”_

“Who is closest in the air to my location? Over.” The rider asked, gritting her teeth, slightly annoyed in the delay in getting action organised. Her team wasn’t usually this sloppy and she had no idea what Agent Okanakamura was doing or why she was doing it.

 _“It's only Agent Beale who's presently flying Skip. Currently making heart shaped loops over Italy. Over.”_ Beca said, confused as her team leader, usually so sharp minded, had already asked who was airborne twice.

“Land rovers available? Over.”

 _“Negative. Agent Conrad is teaching the new recruits how to strip... tools that is. Over.”_ Beca said, almost apologetically.

“Advise Agent Beale to fly double time and stress the urgency please. Over.” The rider said, deciding this was her best course of action. She checked her implant before continuing.

 _“Affirmative Skipper. Over.”_ Beca said, tapping the directive quickly into the computer.

“Advise caution on approach; I’m currently in a valley and I’d rather she didn’t crash into the side of the hill. The paperwork to explain that would take a week to put together. Over.”

_“Affirmative. Over.”_

“Requesting back up with the Neezlux upon arrival back at Base... My ammo case is empty and I’m registering just a little over six percent on kinetic energy. Over.”

 _“I can see that. I’ll arrange full team response in the hanger. Over.”_ Beca responded quickly, realising that could have been the reason why her leader wasn’t as sharp as usual.

“Side note, I feel like I could sleep for a week. Please put a request in for me for a desk duty day tomorrow. Swap me with Agent Hobart for manning the control room. Over.”

_“Copy that. Do you need a doctors appointment with Agent Adams? Over.”_

“Negative. Just a glass of beer, my book, a long, hot shower and a date with my pod for an exceptionally long sleep; that should do the trick. Over.”

 _“Are you loaded with APOP? Over.”_ Beca asked, taping in the request to switch her team leader’s duties around for the next day.

“Not necessary currently, Agent. Over.”

_“But I-”_

“I am not sick or injured. Over.”

 _“Skipper, it’s-”_ Beca almost pleaded.

“-Prefer not to use, Agent Mitchell but I thank you for your concern... Over.” The rider said decidedly, stifling a huge yawn.

 _“Understood but precautionary measures_ _,_ _Skipper? Over.”_ Beca tried again, now with a trace of concern in her voice.

“Your concern is noted, Agent Mitchell. Over.” The sharp response sounded final over the airwaves.

_“Got it. Shutting up now. Over.”_

“Can you run a full body scan? I’m concerned that my adrenaline levels are hiding something as I shouldn’t be this low on energy. It has not been _that_ much of an exciting afternoon, after all. Over.”

 _“Yes of course. Running scan now. Hold for detection. Remain still. Over.”_ Beca responded immediately, flicking two switches on the console in front of her. A skeletal picture flashed up on the main screen in front of her and she quickly perused the monitors.

The rider hummed a little as she felt the warmth of the day begin to fade.

_“Okay, so nothing looks completely out of the ordinary. Brain, heart and lungs look normal. Body is fixing a couple of scrapes and bruises but yeah, looks like you’ll live to fight another day. Over.”_

“Thank you, Agent Mitchell. Regeneration readings? Over.” The rider asked, glancing toward at the box strapped to her cruiser.

 _“Regen at twenty nine percent. Tough bastard. Agent Beale approaching on your horizon in less than_ _six_ _minutes. Should have established radio contact in ninety seconds. Over.”_

“Copy that. Update on Agent Beale's internal link? Over.” The rider asked, thinking of her own small implant behind her ear and how much easier it would be to talk to her fellow Agent directly.

_“She's currently still without it. Over.”_

“Has Agent Applebaum still not finished repairing it after the kick Agent Beale received from the Urbitox Alien? Over.”

 _“Affirmative Skipper. Agent Applebaum confirmed it will be ready soon. Agent Beale due for re implantation at twenty_ _-one_ _hundred hours. Over.”_

“Copy that. Maintaining contact with the Neezlux for data transference. Send to Agent Bryant and Agent Beale. Will get visual on the transport before I let you go back to whatever level of Angry Birds you were playing. Over.” The rider smirked as she spoke, and she just knew Beca would have cast an eye over her shoulder in response to her latest statement.

 _“Advise on placement of the spy on Psycho cameras in control room Skip? Over.”_ Beca huffed in reply.

“Seven years of knowing you. No camera needed. Over.”

_“It’s level eighty-four thousand and thirty-six by the way. Over.”_

“Honestly Agent Mitchell? The future of the planet is in our hands and you are playing a game of Angry Birds? Over.” The rider laughed shrilly, despite herself.

_“Copy that. Don't start getting excited. You'll only puke in your helmet again, Skip. Over.”_

“Is that your professional opinion, Agent Mitchell? Over.” The tone behind the words hardened a little.

 _“You weren’t due back until extraction. I guess we all thought… Over.”_ Beca said weakly, although she knew her defence was poor.

“And that is an excuse to mess around? We are at war here! Over.”

 _“I’m sorry, Skipper. Over.”_ Beca sighed. In truth, for those back at Base, the day had been slow, but she knew that wasn’t an excuse to forget what was going on around them.

“It’s a good thing you are good at your job, Agent Mitchell. Over.”

_“Yes ma’am. Over.”_

The rider stilled her tapping as she looked out across the valley, wanting nothing more to be back at Base, in her team’s rec room, bantering with Beca on a complete different subject.

 _“Visual on Agent Beale yet? Over.”_ Beca asked, returning to business. There was no point dwelling on an admonishment; it served no purpose and they all knew once their Skipper had said her piece, it was done and dusted.

“Negative. Over.” The rider said, sobering.

 _“Agent Beale is showing your location in_ _two_ _minutes, thirty_ _-one_ _seconds. Clearly_ _flying a little faster than the approved double time and quite obviously_ _breaking speed limits. Over.”_ Beca smirked.

“Copy Agent Mitchell. Will not reprimand. Repeat, will _not_ reprimand on this occasion. I know Agent Beale is superb at flying and is perfectly safe. Advise on potentially hazardous weather conditions? Over.” The rider sighed again, wanting her air support as she was really beginning to feel the effects of an exceedingly long day and wanted to get back to Base.

 _“Forecasted rain and storms on your location in twenty_ _-four_ _minutes. Over.”_

“Typical English weather then. Agent Beale location? Over.”

 _“Scan_ _show she has left_ _Sector 4.7_ _, bypassed Sector 4.1. Northern France_ _and approaching Sector_ _3.8, Southern England_ _. Visual on Agent Beale? Over.”_ Beca asked, not understanding why her Skipper could not see the third Agent on the horizon yet.

“Negative. Over.”

 _“Weather conditions look normal. Yes? Over.”_ Beca asked.

“Some cloud cover. Looks like rain is headed this way.” The rider confirmed which Beca took as the reason why her fellow Agent was unable to see the small aircraft approaching. “Ask Agent Hobart to prepare the laboratory for our 'friend'. I want this specimen dealt with tonight. Over.”

 _“Copy that Skipper. Will send communication to Agent Hobart now. Over.”_ Beca said, clicking on the keys to send the message straight away.

“Why is she not at her post? Over.”

_“Medical Bay with one of the new recruits, Skip. Over.”_

“What is the problem? Over.”

 _“Negative. The small Guatemalan dudette had one too many glasses of Boones Farm_ _wine_ _at the orientation lunch. Which you missed by the way._ _I had to go. And_ _I had to make small talk. With people. Actual humans. You owe me big time for that… in triplicate. Over.”_

“She got drunk on her first day? Over.” The rider asked incredulously.

_“Affirmative. Over.”_

“Schedule a team meeting immediately! That is simply unacceptable. This is war, Agent Mitchell, and it is _my_ job to make sure that my Agents are prepped at go time with three kick ass battle plans, practiced and choreographed to perfection. And there are only four… never mind; just make a slot for twenty-three hundred hours in everyone's calendar for a team meeting. Over.”

 _“Twenty-three hundred hours?”_ Beca repeated. “ _It’s… umm, it’s a little late for a_ _team_ _meeting, Skip. Over.”_

“Late, Agent Mitchell? Over.”

_“Well, yeah. Most of us are in our bunks by then. Over.”_

“Oh well then, Agent Mitchell. We’ll just ask the enemy to put themselves on hold while Agent Mitchell gets some beauty sleep, shall we, Agent Mitchell? Over.”

 _“You_ _are Agent Mitchelling me a lot right now. Over.”_

“You are annoying me a lot right now. Over.” The rider snapped back, unable to keep the childish retort from her lips.

_“Who pissed in your cereal this morning? Bryant not put out this morning, huh? Over.”_

“Do you want a disciplinary on your record Agent Mitchell for mouthing off? Over.” The rider snapped suddenly.

 _“Not particularly_ _, no_ _. Over.”_ Beca frowned, her team captain normally able to laugh off remarks like that. She glanced at the riders energy levels showing on her screen.

“You don’t want a meeting because you are usually asleep by then? Is that it? Over.” The rider’s voice was piercing.

_“Skipper, take a breath. You are sounding supersonic on comms. It’s just been a long week and everyone, including you, is exhausted. You’ve even asked to switch a shift tomorrow because you have recognised you are exhausted. I was merely commenting it was a late meeting when you had planned to be in your bunk by then. Over.”_

“Do you have an elsewhere to be later, Agent Mitchell? Over.” The rider pushed.

_“Negative. Over.”_

“Then twenty-three hundred hours for a team meeting it is. Over.”

 _“Affirmative. Over.”_ Beca said, ignoring her own eye roll as she punched in the details of her Skipper’s request to the team's schedule.

“Thank you. Over.”

_“Am I ordering refreshments for this meeting? Milk and cookies perhaps? Dress code; pyjamas or clothing optional? Bring a pillow? Over.”_

“Agent Mitchell, don’t push it! It is a very good job we’re friends! Just send the meeting invitation please! Over.”

_“Calm down. I’ve sent the request and people are responding. Geez. Over.”_

“Agent Mitchell, ever the professional. Over.”

There was silence for a moment or two and Beca scanned the monitors in front of her again. She was getting concerned for her fellow Agent’s wellbeing as all her levels were beginning to drop and that, combined with the erratic behaviour and shrill tones was causing her a little concern.

 _“Visual on Agent Beale? Over.”_ She asked, wanting to keep the rider talking.

“Negative. Over.”

 _“She's probably stopped for gas. Or doughnuts. Over.”_ Beca laughed suddenly.

“Affirmative! Or taking photographs of sheep again! Over.”

 **“Hey! I heard that you guys! One rescue party on its way, Skipper!”** Agent Chloe Beale with a callsign of _'Rascal'_ joined the conversation, her chirpy voice cutting through the static, thoroughly enjoying the hero complex she had had thrust upon her as she flew her favourite item of transport towards her captain, in a slightly mild but still exciting rescue mission. **“Confirm time to location is** **one minute** **and forty-three seconds. Clarissa is locked and loaded. Ready to party! Totes fun! Rascal Over.”**

“Copy that. You still need a better name for your new transport, Agent Beale. Glad you could join us. Approach from the east. Arrive with cargo door open, this Neezlux is particularly nasty and will need quarantining. Skipper Over.” The rider ordered.

 **“Copy Skip. Gold star for snagging a big, nasty Neezie Weezie all by yourself. Woohoo! Totes happy for you! Hugs and kisses! Rascal Over.”** Chloe giggled over the comms.

 _“Dude, what have we said about using the word 'totes' on comms? Base Over.”_ Beca mirthed.

“And what have we said about the word 'dude' on comms? Skipper Over.”

_“Fair point Skip. Apologies Agent Beale. Base Over.”_

**“No worries Agent Mitchell, I still love you! Rascal Over.”**

_“Good job, because I've spent my free afternoon yesterday sorting out your birthday surprise next week and_ -” Beca started to say before her captain's voice cut through the comms.

“-May I remind you of the impending danger we are in right now. Agent Mitchell, your girlfriend's birthday will have to wait until we are off duty and Agent Beale, I suggest you concentrate on the task at hand. Skipper Over.” Although the words were hard, the tone was light, and all parties took it informally.

There was a moment of silence where the smiles were almost heard over the radio.

**“No problemo. Rascal Over.”**

_“Okay, I have a visual on you, Skip. Base has you on Clarissa's camera. Over.”_ Beca said, not taking the slight reprimand to heart.

**“If you smile Skipper, I’ll take a couple of pictures for the Unit’s scrapbook. Right, better concentrate so I don’t make a new hole in the side of this hill. Rascal over and out until approach imminent. See you soon Skips McGee! Yay! Rascal Over. Oh, and Out.”**

“Good to hear. I’m ready for-”

 _“-Advise on dark mass one klik south from your location?”_ Beca cut into the conversation as she monitored the terrain on the aircraft’s cameras. _“Object is organic. I deduce potential hostile? Skipper, confirm? Base Over.”_

“Negative visual. Scanning now. Skipper Over.” The rider said, walking to the edge of the cavern and perusing the landscape.

_“Base advising Skipper that the hostile is moving slowly towards your position. It looks to be a lone combatant and journeying in a straight line to your location. Suggest repositioning for extraction? Base Over.”_

“Negative. No time. Skipper Over.”

_“Strongly suggest you relocate Skipper. Base Over.”_

“I have taken your concerns under advisement Agent Mitchell and will leave from this location. Over.”

_“Skipper, we can move to a secondary location for safety very easily. Over.”_

“Negative Agent Mitchell. I have full visual on Agent Beale but none on the hostile. Will prepare to board. See you back at Base, Agent Mitchell. Skipper Over and Out.” The rider said, beginning to get ready for extraction, strapping her weapon, the W-74, back onto her right leg.

There were often hostiles in the areas where they patrolled. Sometimes it was better not to engage, rather pinpoint their location and send out an airborne unit or drone to annihilate the target.

 _“Understood. Base says please be careful. Base Over and Out.”_ Beca's final response was said before the tell-tale clicks in her ear signalled the end of the conversation.

With her eyes firmly glued to the approaching aircraft, the rider, Special Agent in Charge Aubrey _'Skipper'_ Posen, Unit Bravo Captain, Team Leader and Operational Field Commander, felt a surge of reprieve in the gloomy, early evening air that her team worked so well together when it was called upon.

She was tough on them, but the dividends were high.

She could ignore the snark, wise cracks and on occasion, even the flirting because while all of that was going on, she knew the team was working hard to resolve any problem at the same time.

The Freedom Fighters' Unit Bravo had the highest rate of hostile Alien capture and kills on record, passing the previous company top score set by Unit Alfa, led by the rather unfortunate Bradford Allen, by a long shot, something that she was enormously proud of.

And whilst Aubrey enjoyed winning accolades, it was not what held her interest the most. What she cared about, what she _craved_ throughout her entire being was to know that the difference that she and her team were making in the war was _worth_ it; that instead of kneeling down and accepting their fate like so many of their peers were doing, they were fighting for their lives, for their freedom, and for the future and liberty of an unborn generation.

She _needed_ to win.

Aubrey took a step back towards her D-ACA cruiser, ignoring the continuous moaning coming from the locked box at the back.

Chloe was merely seconds away from her position now, having already done a fly past the cave to align and slow down the Y-PIX _‘Clarissa’_ as close to the cavern's entrance as she could on her second turn around.

Aubrey had felt the rush of wind as the Y-PIX flew past her and heard the hiss of the air brakes as Chloe fought to slow the aircraft down on a tight turn.

The perpetually exuberant Agent Beale had waved like a _lunatic_ as she passed the crevice, blowing _kisses_ to Aubrey as she flew past, towards the west, before looping back a few seconds later, needing a few seconds to slow the transport down safely.

Aubrey, maintaining her dignity and refusing to return Chloe's overly enthusiastic gestures, clicked on the short-wave radio on her hip, turned up the volume before tugging her leather gloves further up her hands, mashing and interlinking her fingers together to suppress any nerves that she wasn't allowing herself to think about.

The hostile on approach that her fellow Agent had seen on the screens in the control room was playing heavily on her mind. She didn’t usually disregard a safety suggestion like that but was just so ready to get back to Base.

She could just imagine Beca’s face right now, the spectacular eye roll and muttering under her breath and Aubrey’s mouth twisted in a small smile at the thought.

“Agent Beale, advise embarkation time. Over.” Aubrey called out into the cavernous space, hoping the echo didn't sound like nerves on the short-wave radio as she walked towards the D-ACA Cruiser.

 _“Skipper_ _just a few more seconds_ _and counting until we get to bump fists. Are you ready_ _? Over.”_ Chloe happily asked as her raked her fingers through her red hair, tying it up into a lazy knot at the back, completely ignoring the loud alarm coming from the cockpit, informing the pilot that both hands had been removed from the steering device.

“Ready. Over.”

_“I'm opening doors in three... two... one. Over.”_

“Copy that Agent Beale. I'm mounting the cruiser now. Over.”

_“Oh Skipper, really? Mounting?! You'll get me all hot and bothered saying things like that! Over.”_

“Agent Beale, keep those comments to yourself please. Are you trying to-” Aubrey sighed.

 _“-_ _Negative_ _to whatever you are about to say_ _Skip! You know I've only got eyes for one girl really! Over.”_ Chloe said light heartedly, looking over the terrain spread out in front of her, the setting sun casting lazy shadows over the ground below. Her eyes swept the rocky ridge carefully, despite her playful tone, she was entirely focussed on the job at hand.

“I _can_ request a transfer for you. Over.”

 _“Aww, you can’t say that sweetie. You’d miss me and my charms too much. I know you secretly like...”_ Chloe paused, the back of her neck tingling, a revealing sign that something was seriously amiss.

She immediately scanned the horizon, dropping her eyes to the right and catching sight of the dark mass that Beca had seen on the cameras. It was climbing over the rocks at considerable speed below, faster than anticipated. Immediately, her back straightened out before she spoke in a crisp, lucid voice, devoid of her happy persona and usual perkiness.

All business.

“ _... Agent Posen. Advise that the lone hostile, approximately fifty yards west to your position, is_ _now_ _approaching at speed in an attack_ _deportment._ _Do you copy? Over.”_

“Copy. Over.”

Chloe didn't take her eyes off the Alien hostile as she approached the crevice where Aubrey was currently waiting for her. Knowing from the communication she had received when she got the distress call to return to base, that her team leader and her _friend_ was out of ammo, had little life support, a trapped Neezlux Alien who was likely to be fully regenerated in less than four minutes _and_ now a lone hostile who was making fast work of the terrain, she needed to think fast.

As Chloe got closer, she could clearly see it was a Jaremise Alien, the tell-tale quintessential 'little green man' look about the creature being the obvious give away, the mind altering capabilities and telepathic skill, of which Chloe herself was so familiar with herself and her knowing just how dangerous that it could be, being the reason that her blood ran cold.

Chloe had seconds to rescue her Unit leader as she knew Aubrey had nowhere to hide in the cave having seen the inside of it on her previous flyby.

If the Jaremise got hold of her, even for a minute, it would be game over for Aubrey and Chloe knew if she got any closer, she would begin to suffer the effects of the Jaremise and be of no use to anyone.

Chloe steadied her nerves, cleared her throat, clicked on the intercom to reconnect Base with the Y-PIX comms link and spoke in a clear, utilitarian voice.

_“Agent Posen, Agent Mitchell, it's a Jaremise. I repeat, a Jaremise. Code one zero five. Initiating counter offensive. Good luck. Maintaining radio silence. Agent Beale Over.”_

**.oOo.**


End file.
